


You Who Held Me Under

by saisei



Series: My Halloween Fic [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Character, Body Horror, Eye Trauma, Field Surgery, Gen, Happy Halloween, Possession, enucleation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Ignis had given the Lucii his eyes, but they hadn'ttakenthem. They'd just... moved in, like ghosts settling into a haunted house, and Ignis didn't even seem to realize it. Prompto didn't know what they were looking for, or what they'd do when they found it. Something bad.Prompto needed to do something, he knew, or he'd never be able to be near Ignis again, and he liked Ignis too well for that.





	You Who Held Me Under

**Author's Note:**

> _Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state_  
_A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake_  
_No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber_  
_Until I realize that it was you who held me under_  
(Florence + The Machine, Blinding)

Prompto hated the way Ignis looked at him after Zegnautus. He'd felt sorry for Iggy before – of course he had, the guy just lost his sight – but he'd overheard Ignis talking to Noct about the ring and the souls of dead kings trapped inside it, and how they'd made a bargain before flooding him with their power. And now... Well. Just because Ignis couldn't see didn't mean someone, some long-dead _kings_, weren't using his eyes to spy on all of them.

He knew it sounded nuts, but sometimes when he was talking to Iggy his right eye would wander, like he was watching something behind Prompto's back. Or he'd have a moment of really excellent hand-eye coordination in a fight and Prompto'd think: _wait a minute_. How'd a blind guy do that?

Gladio chalked it up to compensation. He said Ignis was using sound cues and fluctuations in temperature, even vibrations through the ground to perceive the world. But if that was so, what did Ignis keep looking at with such calculating curiosity? His eye was silvered with scars, and sometimes it looked like it was glowing. And who knew what the other eye was up to. Ignis could open it by raising the eyelid with his fingers, but he said he couldn't blink any more, so he kept it hidden. A convenient excuse. Prompto spent long minutes watching the way that eye moved under its veil of scars.

It was unnatural and wrong. Eyes didn't do that, not all on their own. Ignis had given the Lucii his eyes, but they hadn't _taken_ them. They'd just... moved in, like ghosts settling into a haunted house, and Ignis didn't even seem to realize it. Prompto didn't know what they were looking for, or what they'd do when they found it. Something bad. 

These thoughts churned in his head every time he was near Ignis, which made it hard to talk to him normally. He couldn't look him in the eye; he could barely stand being in the same room or Haven. He hated the way Ignis' eyes crawled over him, the way they never reflected his emotions any more. Some people said eyes were the windows to the soul, but not Ignis'. His had been hijacked and something alien – eldritch and evil – stared through them now.

Prompto needed to do something, he knew, or he'd never be able to be near Ignis again, and he liked Ignis too well for that.

He was raiding a deserted Niflheim lab with Aranea when he found himself in a well-stocked medlab. They took all the drugs from the storage units, to deliver to the hospitals back in Lucis, and Prompto had an epiphany. He never wanted to hurt Ignis, ever, but... What if he didn't need to? What if he just helped himself to something that would knock Ignis out, for a little while?

The vial was small, easily pocketed. He recognized the name, or thought he did; as soon as he was back in Lestallum, he checked online to make sure he wasn't wrong. The drug had been illegal in Insomnia, but apparently the Nifs hadn't cared about manufacturing date-rape drugs. Maybe that was what they'd used to keep all the clones quiet and subdued. He felt dirty possessing it, but also safer than he'd felt in ages. He had control over his life again. He couldn't stand the Lucii tormenting Ignis like that, using him; Prompto had been a captive once – he still was in his dreams sometimes, unable to save himself. He knew Ignis deserved better. And now Prompto had a plan to free him from their filthy spying clutches.

Figuring out how to do it was half fun scheming and plotting, and half sickening terror. He couldn't allow himself to get caught, because no one else understood what was happening, and he would never forgive himself if Ignis died because he was too clumsy. He read up on stuff in the public library, not daring to take notes, committing every detail to memory.

*

Ignis insisted on going out alone after the first couple of years. Gladio and Prompto worried about him each time, though probably for different reasons. As far as Prompto knew, Gladio didn't have any suspicions about Ignis' eyes, but Prompto freaked himself out every time Ignis went off to some old ruin. All those inscriptions and stuff that he took rubbings of, he bet the Lucii really enjoyed learning all that stuff. And who knew, maybe they were capable of more than just observing from the passenger seat. Maybe they could trigger creepy ghost-king magic, and Ignis would be all alone out there with whatever they unleashed.

So Prompto was kind of used to following Ignis. He knew how far back to travel, how to keep his chocobo quiet and stealthy. He'd never broken into Ignis' camp before, but there was a first time for everything.

He wasn't dumb enough to walk around barefoot, but he'd found a pair of crappy thin-soled sneakers that were a lot quieter than his boots. He wore them to walk into the haven where Ignis had set up camp, dump a pre-measured amount of the drug into his mug of herbal tea, and retreat back out of hearing range. Ignis was preoccupied with cooking his dinner, but Prompto still moved as slowly as he could and stayed at least four meters away from him. He didn't want to get skewered.

He guessed the Lucii saw what he did, but as far as he knew they didn't communicate with Ignis in any way. He kept an eye on the haven through binoculars and kept his fingers crossed that no daemons would pop up. If they did, he'd have to call the whole thing off, and he only had enough of the drug to try this one, maybe two more times. But he just wanted to get it all over tonight.

He watched Ignis eat and drink and putter around the haven. He made a couple of phone calls, and Prompto's ass was starting to get cold from sitting and waiting. But then he saw Ignis stumble, like he was dizzy, and put a hand to his head. Ignis sat down on his bedroll, and then lay down, curled on his side. He didn't seem to be in distress, no seizures or anything. Just like he went to sleep.

Prompto waited another half an hour, watching carefully to make sure Ignis was still breathing (he'd read up on what to do if he stopped, but he'd rather this was easy). Finally, he got up, all stiff, and jogged over to where Ignis was lying, still and quiet, like he knew what Prompto was going to do. Like he was waiting patiently to be made right again.

Prompto'd prepared everything he'd need in a nice small bundle. Surgical gloves, which he pulled on now. Scissors and a box cutter knife, and a sharpened spoon that was the closest thing he'd been able to make to a tool he'd seen in a book on ancient Solheim medicine. Which had been pretty barbaric, but hey. So was this. Fuck the Lucii.

He rolled Ignis onto his back and reminded himself not to say anything, give himself away. Ignis was limp and pliable, which made Prompto feel sick thinking about how the drug was used illegally. He settled in with his knees pressed to Ignis' ears, holding his head still, and trained his light down on his face. When he pushed open the eyelids on Ignis' left eye as wide as he could, the eye below twitched and moved, just like it was reacting to the light. Which it shouldn't do. There wasn't a pupil or an iris any more, just that silvery film of scarring. But who knew what was hiding beneath.

One way to find out.

Prompto'd read articles in modern surgical journals that had mentioned the different parts inside the eye, but once he started digging the spoon down he quickly lost track of the individual muscles. There was more blood than he expected, and he was wary of ripping a hole in the eyeball itself. He wanted to lift the whole thing out – with as much of the nerve at the back as he could – to make sure every last taint of the Lucii and the ring is gone.

He kind of made a hash of it, finally just scrabbling his fingers in where it was loose and pulling it out. He sliced the eyeball free of the bits that stuck to it – nerves or muscles, he had no idea – and dropped it into the bag he'd prepared. He stuffed gauze into the socket to mop up what he could, but Ignis was making a distressed gurgling, so probably blood and other stuff was draining down his throat. Not so good. Prompto didn't want him suffocating, or throwing up. He wanted this to be easy and as painless as possible.

But now that he knew what the general layout of an eye socket was like, he started on the right eye with speed and confidence. The eyelid wasn't scarred, so he could pull it back more and had a wider area to work in. There was a certain amount of force that needed to be used to get it over with quickly, and he wasn't nervous. He could do this. Dig, twist, pry up, and then cut free. Eye in the bag, gauze in the socket, and roll Ignis back over on his side, so if he was sick, he'd be okay.

Prompto stuck the tools and the gloves in the bag as well. He was all set to go when he remembered to find Ignis' phone. He picked it up in his handkerchief – even though he was sure no one had the technology to check for fingerprints any more – and carried it over to place in Ignis' limp hand.

He'd expected Ignis to be more active, writhing or struggling; his stillness was unnatural and uncanny, giving Prompto goosebumps all up and down his arms. But he told himself this was the best way to do this. A surgical strike, taking out the enemy under cover of darkness. If Ardyn had left any part of himself buried in Prompto, he'd want Gladio and Ignis to do this for him. Cut it out.

He had no idea how much more time he had, and he needed to get rid of the eye-spies ASAP. Just being this close to them creeped him out. So he jogged back away a safe distance and called for his chocobo.

They had to weave around three roaming gangs of daemons on the way to the next haven over. When they got there, Prompto gave his chocobo her greens, and then built a fire to burn his crappy sneakers and the bag of stuff to ashes. He napped, poked the fire, dozed again. It smelled terrible, and he hoped that was just the burning rubber and not, like, _evil_.

As the hours ticked by, he found himself waiting for a call. Now that he'd taken care of their problem, it was very tempting to let his guard down, but he knew he couldn't. Maybe when Noct came back, he'd tell everyone that Prompto'd done the right thing. But until then, Prompto knew nothing.

He raked the remnants out of the fire with a stick. Twisted bits of metal, some odd lumps, and that was all. He thought about eating, but he could still see blood and bits of flesh and those silver-scarred eyes staring up at him from the palm of his hand. He slept some more.

He was startled out of vivid dreams by his phone buzzing as messages arrived, sitting up fast enough that his chocobo startled.

_Get your ass to Lestallum quick_, Gladio texted, and Prompto hyperventilated until the next message popped up. _Iggy's hurt bad._

Prompto went limp, dropping back down to the ground in a sprawl, his hands shaking. After a few minutes, he sent, _Shit. Where are you? What happened?_

_You'll see_, Gladio sent, and it would have terrified Prompto with its ominousness if he didn't already know. A second later, directions arrived to a hospital.

Prompto debated whether to risk heading all the way north, but he knew the road wasn't safe recently. He rode as far as the rope-way and took that instead, leaving his chocobo at the mini mart there, telling them he'd be back to collect her soon. The towers and carriages were covered in so many daemon repelling lights that it reminded him of the festival they'd gone to in Lestallum, in happier days, back when Noct was with them and Ignis wasn't possessed and Prompto had never been – 

He forced his thoughts from straying that way. He was fine. Nothing had happened to him. He didn't even have scars, and that meant he'd never even been hurt.

It was weird, he thought, how the gods and ancient protective spirits and dead kings all brought so much harm and pain into the world. The only way to survive unscathed was to keep them from noticing your existence. Which was tricky. Sometimes it called for extreme measures.

He turned that phrase over in his head as he exited the station and made his way across town, following Gladio's instructions. Extreme measures, like an intervention, like surgery to remove a tumor before it grew. Not nice, but necessary.

The right thing to do.

He calmed himself down with that thought. Reaching the hospital, he jogged up the steps, and then up the main stairs to Ignis' room, on the fourth floor. The building was shabby and didn't look sanitary; dust had collected in the corners. It was a good thing Ignis couldn't see that, he started to think, and then had to dig his fingernails into his palms to focus on the pain.

He knocked, bouncing on his toes with nervous energy. Gladio opened the door and loomed over him, anger coming off him like waves of heat from a highway. Prompto took a step back, and Gladio followed him out into the corridor.

"Noct made you delete a photo at the Vesperpool," Gladio said abruptly. "What was it?"

Prompto blinked, baffled. Maybe he wasn't the only person around here going off the rails. "You mean the one of his naked ass? It was a work of art."

Gladio huffed, still angry, but less defensive. "Ignis was attacked. Someone, ah." He scrubbed at his hair with one hand, and Prompto could see now how his face was twisted with misery, his eyes red-rimmed. "They cut his eyes out."

"What," Prompto said dumbly, and if his reaction was off Gladio didn't seem to notice.

"They yanked his eyes out of the sockets and left him bleeding and in agony." Gladio rolled his shoulders back, shrugging tension out. "He's twenty kinds of fucked up. The doctors had to knock him out so he can sleep." Gladio took a step back, to lean against the wall, and shut his own eyes. "I should never have let him go hunting on his own. I should have known he wasn't safe."

"Can I see him?" Prompto asked. He felt ill at the thought of Ignis in pain. He wished he could explain to Ignis why it'd been necessary, but in lieu of that at least he could take care of him. After a moment, when Gladio didn't reply, he added cautiously, "I don't understand."

Gladio's chest heaved under a shuddering breath, and Prompto realized he was fighting back tears, his face twisting in a grimace as he made himself keep quiet, like it wouldn't do for Ignis to overhear him.

*

Prompto was holding Ignis' hand and talking to him when he woke up; Gladio was on the other side of the bed, scowling as he sent off more messages to Cor and the Glaive, probably. Ignis woke with a scream, lurching up and summoning his daggers in one smooth move. Fortunately, Gladio and Prompto had prepared for this, their chairs thrown back as they scrambled to get out of range.

"It's just me," Prompto said. "Prompto."

At the same time, Gladio grumbled, "What the fuck, Iggy. Warn a guy." He sounded irritated, like Ignis was just fucking around, but his eyes were narrowed with concern. "You're in the hospital. You remember that?"

"No," Ignis said, but his breathing picked up, and his mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. He had white strips of bandaging wrapped around his head, so he didn't inadvertently claw at his eyes, Prompto guessed. But he knew something was wrong, even in his panicked, half-drugged state.

"Ask me something only I'd know," Gladio said, and Prompto winced as Ignis shuddered, clearly understanding the implications of that.

"The wallpaper in your downstairs bathroom," Ignis said. His grip on his weapons remained strong and sure. "In Insomnia."

"Bunch of flowers," Gladio said with a shrug. "Purple and pink, my mom's favorite colors. You thought it was tacky as fuck."

Ignis nodded, then winced as the motion jarred his head, and tossed the daggers back into the armiger. For a moment Prompto was offended that Ignis didn't bother checking that he wasn't a fake, but then realized Ignis was relying on Gladio to have taken care of that already. His skin crawled, and he had to resist the urge to scratch at the goosebumps, to burn off the terror he felt whenever he remembered Ardyn, and what he could do, what he had done.

But Ignis was reaching up to his face now, finding the bandages and trying to dislodge them, and Prompto snapped out of his memories and hurried forward to grab at his wrists. Ignis flinched away, and Prompto dropped his hands like they were on fire.

"Iggy, you can't, you've got to heal," he said, and he didn't sound reasonable in the least.

To his horror, Ignis started to cry, great ugly sobs tearing out of him, like he was heartbroken, inconsolable, frightened. Like he had when he woke in Altissia and realized his sight was gone. Gladio put his arms around him despite how stiff Ignis was, and pulled his head forward to rest against his chest.

Prompto felt a kind of frustrated pressure in his chest; he was impatient for everyone to just move on. Ignis was _better_ now, with the threat of dead kings gone from his skull. He was _free_. And while he was relieved right down to his toes that both Gladio and Ignis had immediately assumed Ardyn was the culprit, he wished there'd been some way to make it look like an accident and not an attack. Less drama would be better.

He just wanted life to get back to normal, or at least as normal as possible.

When Ignis' grief had run its course, they had to let him remove the now-sodden bandages, while Gladio went to get a nurse.

"It doesn't look bad," Prompto said, when Ignis removed the pads covering his eyes. There weren't any cuts around his eyes – he'd been so careful not to let his hand slip – and he'd totally forgotten about tear ducts, but apparently he hadn't damaged them. He'd done a good job, if he said so himself.

"Gladio," Ignis said. His voice was shaking nearly as badly as his hands were. "Curatives."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't – no one wants you to hurt." Ignis wasn't making any move to pull out the gauze that filled his eye sockets. He wondered for the first time what Ignis would do: would he get fake eyes and try to look normal, or eye-patches, or just rock the socket look? "Do you need help with, um, the rest?"

"I woke up," Ignis said, the words fast and low, like he had to get them out and away from himself as quickly as possible, "in blinding pain, so bad I was sick from it, and only after – I knew, but I still, I reached up to see how badly I'd been mutilated, and my fingers. They slipped right in, because there was _nothing there_."

Prompto bit back an _I know_ and instead took a loud step forward and reached out, one hand rubbing Ignis' shoulders, which were rock-hard with tension, and the other cupping his scarred cheek. He felt a jolt, a kind of thrill, when Ignis allowed the intimacy. He wanted nothing more than to make him feel better, to get over this.

"I can't remember a thing," Ignis said. Prompto stroked under his cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe. "He must have... walked right into the haven. I thought – we all did – he's a _daemon_."

Shit. Prompto had forgotten that. But it wasn't his job to try and explain how Ardyn had pulled that off. He wasn't the brains of their group. "We'll warn people not to go out alone. It's... it sucks, but you'll get better, and I'll travel with you, anywhere you want to go. I am there for you." Ignis' breath hitched, like he was holding back even more tears. "I don't know if he – " why was that name so hard to say out loud? "– if Ardyn made me forget anything, when he had me. I wish he had," and that was a little too honest, he needed to step back from that ledge." "He knew just how to hurt me the worst, you know?"

"I could still _see_," Ignis said, and shuddered, leaning forward unconsciously. Prompto upgraded his awkward shoulder rub to a full-on hug. "I knew light and dark, and I _treasured_ that. I wanted... I'd hoped to see Noct, his shadow at least. The sun rising."

The thought of the Lucii getting even one glimpse of Noct through Ignis' eyes was repulsive. Prompto hated Ignis' grief, but he'd done the right thing.

"I'll see for you from now on," Prompto vowed. He slid his had back from Ignis' cheek into his hair, cupping his skull, glad that now he was free. "Everything you need. You're _you_," he added. "I know you. You're so strong. You'll be fine."

Ignis laughed, short and hollow, and put his arm around Prompto's back, leaning on him for comfort in the darkness. "Thank you."

Prompto knew he was being thanked for the wrong thing, but he didn't mind. "Anytime," he said. "For you, Igster, anything."


End file.
